Once they left, I turned to Imani with a frown. “I just want to go home,” I said.
“Stop messing with your IV!”
“It itches.”
“You’ll go home soon enough, but not if you don’t do what the doctors tell you to do to heal properly.”
“Fine,” I griped.
“Bleu, there’s something else I need to tell you…about the accident.”
“What?”
“The driver in the other car that hit you, she uh…she didn’t make it. And um,”
“What happened, Imani?”
“It was my mom, Bleu. She was driving the car that put you here, and now she–she’s gone,” Imani informed me, tears slipping down her cheeks.
I let out a long sigh while resting my head against the pillow and slamming my eyes shut. A warm tear slid from the corner of my eye. Learning of Mrs. L’s death and the pain that must’ve caused her and Isa was hard to cope with.
“I’m so sorry. How are you handling it?”
“I don’t know if I am. My rational mind knows she’s gone, but the rest of me hasn’t begun to process it yet. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about me.”
“How can I not?”
“Is that why you came here? To tell me about your mom?”
“I’m here for you, Bleu. Why wouldn’t I be here?” she questioned.
“I think you and I both know the answer to that.”
She huffed. “Listen, Bleu. I’m sorry for what I said to you the night I left. I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to–”
“To hurt me, right? Yeah, I know.”
Imani let out an exasperated sigh. “I did it because I had to, not because I wanted to.”
“What made you feel like you had to hurt me when I ain’t do shit to you?”
“Do you think I liked hurting you?”
“It sure felt that way.”
She sniffled. “Well, I hated it. I regretted it every day.”
“But not enough to reach out, though, right?” I asked coldly.
“Bleu, I–”
“Nah. Sorry doesn't fix everything, Imani. It’s been months. You didn't call. You didn't text. Nothing.”
“I just needed some space!”
“And since you’re here, I take it you’ve had enough?”